Sunday, June 29, 2014

We Are the Sprocket BOOMS vol. 215

TRANS4MERS: AGE OF BROSTINCTION : a perception based review;

Before anyone born was born, ornately detailed robot giants from space decided to wipe out the dinosaurs cause BOOMS. Flash-forward to whatever year this is; villains played by respectable character actors (hired to put forth the illusion of prestige ie John Malkovich in Con-Air) are hunting and killing these other robot giants from space so they can use the parts to make robot giants not from space. 

Enter Mahck Whahlberg. He’s some kind of mechanic who is also a farmer (excuse me; Fahmuh). Also he has a vessel-for-the-director’s-perverted-fixations (called “daughter” in the “script”). Mahcky Mahck finds a huge truck with totally wicked sweet flames painted on it. he fiddles around with tools (or farming equipment) and comes to the conclusion that “WE JUST FOWND A TRANSFORMAH. HEY TRANSFORMAH. I LIKE HOW YOU TRANSFORM. I’M ALSO A FAHMUH. A TRANSFAHMUH. BUT NO HOMO” (translated from Crayon). 

Anygay, the evil slumming-it players finds Boogie Nights and says they murder rape the fetish vessel if they don’t give up the Truckformer. This is answered with SWOOSH BOOMS to escape. Along the way we encounter some racist stereotypes (probably asian), a callback to a better movie (hint: “Calmer Than You Are), and Final Boss Robot who wants to destroy robots or humans or turn humans into robots or turn robots into humans… whatever… he’s got a city sized space cannon that makes BOOMS. 

After roughly 83 minutes of combat and bass drops, Optimus Priz-Ime remembers “oh wait, I know of these huge dino-mech things living in the earth since forever. I’ll go get them”, and the audience is all like “why didn’t you ride this fire-breathing Cyber-Dragon into battle EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU HAD A BATTLE. YOU COULD’VE SAVED COUNTLESS LIVES AND SPARED US 3 MORE MOVIES OF THE SAME BULLSHIT. THANKS OBAMA”. 

So anyway, Dino-Bots… the shit you came to see… the cornerstone of the film’s marketing… yeah they show up with roughly 15 minutes left in the film’s near 3hr running time. FIRE ROAR BOOMS, robot faces being ripped from their robot faces (Optimus Prime is a fucking serial killer, by the way), montage of spray tans and the military, empty headed platitude that offers a vague promise of more bullshit to come, Linkin Park song, post credit bullshit, trip to toy store/car dealership. 

We are dead inside, and this is the necrophilia.

No comments: